So it seems like you all enjoyed the action in the previous chapter and I am so glad! I have never written anything like it as graphically violent action scenes are foreign territory for me; that being said, it was still tons of fun and there is more to come! This chapter will serve as a breather after everything that happened in Close; there will be angst! While I love the awkward, fumbled moments between Daryl and Caryl, I am doing my absolute best to keep everyone in character and make the story believable. This is still meant to be a romance but I don't want the fluff to get out of control lol. I hope that I am doing a decent job of showing the emotional rollercoaster that Carol is on. As always, thank you for taking the time to read and I would love to hear what you think : )
Chapter 11: Thoughts
Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead
The water was cool on Carol's tongue as she leaned against the sink and took a deep drink from her glass. One hand rose to her temple, fingertips feeling the slow pound of thoughts inside her skull.
He's alive. They all made it back in one piece... that's what matters.
She closed her eyes and exhaled, hoping to release some of the tension that had coiled tightly around her organs... But it was useless. Her mind leapt from the bloody hood of the car to Daryl's stained shirt... to that same shirt coming over his head, mussing his hair... and back to all of the blood...
What happened?
There was an uncomfortable warmth spreading from her stomach to her chest and quickly creeping up her neck; she took another sip of water.
What did they see?
The pounding in her head grew worse as Carol struggled to focus, but the images flit through her mind like sparrows, settling only for a instant. Her blue eyes were vacant as she stared across the empty kitchen, the glass beginning to shake in her sweaty palm.
I said no... He asked me and I said no.
She ran a hand through her short hair and sank her teeth into her lower lip.
I had to. I can't keep doing... keep thinking this. I can't...
Carol turned to face the window, setting her glass down beside the sink. Her hands gripped the counter tightly and she lowered her head, staring down at the dark drain. She stood in silence, listening to her own breathing as relief, exhaustion, anxiety and regret collided in her head, causing a white-hot pain to burst behind her eyes.
Godammitt.
Her body stiffened as she heard the screen door squeak on its hinges.
"Carol?"
She sighed, realizing the voice belonged to Andrea.
"In here," she managed, trying to conceal the emotions that were threatening to break free.
Andrea's footsteps fell heavily across the wood floor of the living room; she paused when she reached the kitchen.
"You alright?" Her arms were folded across her chest. "Just kinda disappeared when the car pulled up."
Carol didn't turn to face her but instead focused on the drain, wishing for an instant that she could slip down, into some dark, cool place where she might unravel the thoughts that were winding around themselves, tangled, fraying in her mind.
"Yeah; I just need a minute." Her voice was soft.
Andrea was quiet; waiting.
After a few moments, Carol reached for her glass and held it firmly in both hands as she faced her friend. "I'm glad they're back." Her eyes were on the floor.
Andrea nodded slowly, taking a step towards the island. "Looks like they ran into some trouble out there."
Carol frowned, squeezing the glass so hard that she thought it would shatter.
"Glenn seemed a little out of it... Daryl okay?" The blonde woman stood near the island, her hip resting against the edge.
Carol's head shot up and she eyed Andrea, studying her features and searching for something she couldn't quite name.
"Seems to be." She took another sip of water and stared purposefully past Andrea and into the living room.
The blonde woman let her gaze fall as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Good. I'm glad everyone's alright." She hoisted herself up onto the island and sat with her legs hanging over the edge; her green eyes moved to Carol's face and saw the frustration lingering there. "Sure you're okay? Because if you're not... you know that you can alw..."
"I'm fine," Carol bit out. She set her glass down on the counter and hugged herself hard. "Just getting worked up over nothing." She began pacing slowly in front of the sink, not wanting to look at Andrea. "They're here; they're home... That's all that matters."
Andrea's legs knocked idly against the island as she watched Carol pace. "They're home." She echoed softly. Carol finally stopped and looked at her.
She stared at Andrea, anger flashing in her blue eyes but Andrea stared right back, undaunted by Carol's glare; neither spoke.
Taking a step towards the island, Carol hugged herself tighter and furrowed her brow. "What?" She snapped suddenly, tired of the younger woman's eyes on her.
Andrea frowned, confused.
"What do you want me to say?" asked Carol, irritation plain in her voice.
But Andrea remained silent, staring at the other woman and trying desperately to read the mixed emotions on her face.
"That I'm glad they're back? Of course I'm glad... I'm grateful..." Carol looked at the floor and felt sadness sweep over her, taking the place of her anger.
"But it's not like we can breathe easy is it?" She sniffed, feeling hot tears begin to well up.
"Carol..."
"I mean," She brought both hands to her forehead and held them there. "It's not like this will ever stop." She resumed pacing and felt the kitchen, the entire house, shrinking around her. "They'll always need to make runs... we'll always need things; we can't avoid it..."
Carol walked past the island and Andrea reached out to touch her arm but the older woman didn't seem to see her; she continued to pace, back and forth across the kitchen, her voice dropping to a strained whisper.
"And every time... every time they go... if any of us go... there's a chance that we won't make it back." She pushed her hands through her short hair, nails grazing her scalp. She blinked hard, forcing back tears, willing them not to fall.
Andrea slid from the island and moved towards Carol, closing the gap between them in a few strides. She placed her hands gently on Carol's freckled shoulders, holding her in place. The contact pulled the woman from her trance and she stood still, locking eyes with her friend.
"Carol," Andrea said slowly, "They came back."
Carol chewed her lip and scanned the ceiling with glassy eyes before refocusing them on Andrea. "But what happens when they don't?" She whispered. Her words hung heavy in the air and Andrea stared at her with parted lips, unable to answer. Her hands fell from Carol's shoulders and the two women stood in silence as the afternoon's warm, orange light streamed through the window, falling across the kitchen floor.
Past the living room and down a long hall, a door creaked open. Maggie and Glenn stepped out of the bathroom and walked slowly towards the living room.
"Thanks," he said.
Her hazel eyes narrowed as she stared at him, "For what?"
"Helping me clean up." He kept his gaze on the floor as they walked.
She lifted a soft hand and let it rest gently on her chest, slender fingers grasping at her necklace. "It's fine... You were a mess." A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth; Glenn smiled at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck.
As they entered the kitchen, Andrea and Carol turned to face them, grateful for the interruption. "Hey," said Andrea as she nodded at Glenn. "You doing okay?"
"Just tired... glad to be back."
"Why don't you all head to the dining room? I'll get you some water," said Carol as she reached for the nearest cabinet and searched for a clean glass.
"Thank you," Glenn said softly before they all moved through the kitchen.
Carol pulled a tall glass from the cabinet and held it under the faucet. She listened to the hiss of the water as it rushed into the cup, watched as it rose higher, tiny bubbles bursting, then disappearing on the surface.
He'll tell us. At least we'll know what happened...
Her fingers curled around the metal knob as she stopped the flow of water. She closed her tired eyes and pulled a deep breath into her lungs before gripping the glass and heading to the dining room.
The others had taken seats around the long table; Maggie was beside Glenn, her hand covering his. Carol stood behind them, "Here," she said, extending the glass; Glenn turned to accept, nodding as he did so. She rounded the end of the table and pulled out a chair beside Andrea. Resting her hands on the table in front of her, Carol leaned forward and waited for Glenn to lower the glass form his lips. "So," she said, her blue eyes clear and focused, fingers threading together, "What happened?"
Maggie and Andrea stared at Glenn expectantly; he sighed, his eyes on the soft hand that held his own. "It just... went bad." They waited in silence for him to continue. "When we pulled up, the place looked clear... no walkers." He scratched his cheek absently, remembering.
"We had a plan... In and out; we had a list..."
Maggie squeezed his hand.
"There wasn't much left in the pharmacy; we each threw a couple things in our bags but... there just wasn't enough. Then Daryl heard something and we started moving to the back of the store." He took another sip of water.
A crease formed in Carol's brow as she tried to picture them in her mind.
"We jumped over this counter and kept moving; we could all hear it..."
Andrea's arms were folded over her chest as she listened, her eyes following the grain in the wooden table.
"Around the end of this aisle, there was a walker." He shifted in his seat. "It was trapped, caught under a fallen shelf... Daryl took care of it and we thought it was over..." Glenn paused, his eyes vacant.
"Go on," Carol whispered, pleading as she leaned further across the table.
He swallowed before continuing, "But then we saw the others... outside... Maybe they heard the car... followed the noise..."
"How many?" asked Andrea.
"Ten at first... They were all around the car; we couldn't get to it... So I told Rick we needed to draw them away...that someone should head out the back... He volunteered... wouldn't let me go."
Maggie felt him grow tense and began running her thumb over his knuckles.
"Me and Daryl took the front, watching the door... we waited..."
The three women listened as Glenn recounted the day's events, sparing no detail. Carol sat transfixed as he described his and Daryl's struggle to reach Rick through the raging throng of corpses. She kept her face a stony mask, concealing the turmoil in her skull.
Surrounded... Any one of those things could have...
She bit the inside of her cheek, her mouth a hard line.
They're here; they're alive. They're alive...
Outside, Daryl groaned. Soreness had settled in his limbs and his throat was dry. The splattered walker blood had dried on his skin and was beginning to itch.
Lord.
He lay on his side and squinted through the rosy light that flooded his tent. As he stared at the wall in silence, Daryl suddenly remembered the pills. His injured hand darted to his pocket and he fumbled for the bottles. He sighed as his fingers closed around the smooth plastic. With a grunt, he forced himself up and sat staring at the bottles; he held one in each hand and counted the contents.
Twelve... Nine.
He tucked the Oxycontin back into his pocket and moved to unscrew the lid on the second bottle. As he tilted the orange container and watched a white pill slide into his palm he stopped... Daryl frowned, aggravated with himself. His thoughts drifted to Carl... to how pale he'd been lying on that bed with a bullet in his gut... To Merle's severed hand and a trail of blood... And finally to Carol, screaming in his arms as the two of them knelt in the dirt and watched her daughter die. He punched the ground before dropping the pill back into the bottle.
Best save that shit 'till ya really need it.
He scolded himself and fell onto his back in frustration; the bottle still clutched in his hand. Daryl winced as he flexed his fingers, the center of his palm stinging beneath the soiled bandage. His eyes narrowed as nagging questions wormed their way into his tired mind.
Why didn't she wanna help?
He stared hard at the domed ceiling of the tent but it offered no answers.
Don't matter. Ain't her job. Ya oughtta be takin' care of your own damn hand anyway.
"Daryl?" Someone called just outside the tent.
He propped himself up on his elbows, "Yeah?"
"Got somethin' you might want."
Daryl grunted as he stood and moved to unzip the flap. Rick was waiting for him with a pail of water and a faded, blue washcloth.
"Water's warm; Carol was heatin' it up on the stove."
He wiped the sweat from his upper lip before accepting the pail.
"You know you're more than welcome to get cleaned up in the house."
Daryl stared at the ground as he scratched his neck, "It's fine," he muttered.
Rick's hands were on his hips as he studied the hunter.
Stubborn ass.
"Alright, have it your way." He handed Daryl the washcloth before turning to leave.
Sighing, Daryl sunk to the ground and dipped the blue cloth into the water. He closed his eyes as he pressed it to his forehead; beads of water rolled slowly down his face, leaving tracks in the layer of grime that covered him.
"Hey," Rick called over his shoulder.
Daryl lifted his head.
"Thank you for your help back there."
Daryl was silent as he rested his elbows on his raised knees.
"If it weren't for you and Glenn..." Rick paused, frowning at the ground. "I don't know that I'd be standin' here... Thank you." Without waiting for an answer he turned away and continued walking towards the farm house.
Left with his thoughts and the clean water, Daryl leaned back against the tent and took a deep breath. The sun dipped lower in the sky, leaving the horizon blazing, red and pink like an angry wound... like a fresh cut, hot and stinging. He wrung out the cloth before soaking it again. The warm water felt good as he wiped his face, scrubbing away as much of the dried blood and dirt as he could. The rag grew darker each time it touched his skin. Daryl worked slowly, enjoying the still silence, the soft grass beneath him and the moment alone. A soft breeze whispered over the fields, cooling the water on his skin but the sensation only served to invigorate him. He sucked clean air into his lungs and pressed the soaking rag to the back of his neck. Tiny, clear droplets slid down his spine, each leaving a smooth trail for those that followed.
Daryl wiped the last smear of blood from his chest and dropped the soiled cloth into the pail; the water had grown murky. He rose stiffly and reentered the tent in search of a shirt. As he rummaged through his things, he found an old wife beater; it had a few holes and was closer to gray than white these days but it was one of the only things left that he felt he could wear in the house. He pulled it over his head and tried halfheartedly to smooth the wrinkles.
Screw it.
Before leaving, he withdrew the orange bottles from his pocket and tucked them carefully inside his rucksack. Daryl cast a nervous glance back at the bag and then zipped the flap behind him. He walked past his brother's bike, which leaned like an idle sentry against a large oak, and snatched his vest that lay draped over the seat. Slipping the worn leather over his shoulders, Daryl jammed a hand into his left pocket and made his way to the farm house.
As he entered the kitchen, he saw that the others were already gathered. Carol's eyes caught his briefly before he moved to the far wall and leaned against it, trying not to draw any more attention. He lowered his gaze, hooking his thumbs into his pockets; Carol turned away to face Glenn. None of them said a word; they simply listened, mesmerized, horrified, as he recounted the events of the run. Maggie sat beside him, her eyes red, swollen, and rubbed his back softly as he spoke. Daryl let his head fall rest on the wall, he focused on the ceiling as he wondered what Glenn had told them... and what he'd chosen to omit...
Rick and Lori stood behind Glenn's chair. Lori's face grew pale as she listened, her hand going to her mouth as she fought the urge to vomit. Carl and Beth had taken seats near Carol. Daryl frowned, crossing his arms.
They don't need to hear this.
Another minute passed before Lori had to excuse herself, running from the dining room with a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Carl looked down as his face darkened and Daryl saw Carol place a hand gently on the boy's knee. Her eyes never left Glenn; she continued to nod as he told his story but her hand remained on Carl's knee, a small comfort if nothing else, discreet, unnoticed by the others... But Daryl saw it. He quickly looked away, as if he'd intruded on some private moment between the two of them.
Spends all her time worryin' about everyone else.
He ran a rough hand over his face and tried to hear what Glenn was saying.
"There were so many... we couldn't see him... We had to follow the sound of the shots..." Glenn's elbows were on the table and he slowly brought his hands up, clasping them under his chin.
"You see where they came from?" Shane asked, stepping forward. He'd been leaning against the wall behind Carol and Andrea's chairs, his baseball cap in his hands.
Glenn blinked before answering, as if noticing Shane's presence for the first time. "Bar... There was a bar across the street. They started coming when they heard Rick's shots..."
Shane nodded, his fingers tight on the bill of his cap, folding it.
"Were you able to find any of the things on the list?" Herschel spoke up from his seat at the head of the table.
Rick scratched the back of his head, "We couldn't bring back as much as we wanted to. I'm sure Glenn mentioned the pharmacy..." His eyes met Herschel's.
The farmer stared back at him, tight-lipped, hoping.
"Too many had been there before us. Ricked kicked absently at the rug, his hands on his hips. "With the walkers comin'..." he sighed, "There wasn't time... We grabbed what we could..."
Herschel nodded, his hands flat on the table. "I thank you, and your people. I'm glad you all made it back safely." He pushed his seat back and stood. "Why don't you show me what you were able to find so I can store it in the guest room with the other supplies?"
Rick turned to walk back through the kitchen and Herschel followed.
"How did you make it through?" Asked Beth, urging Glenn to continue his story. Her legs swung beneath the table, her eyes wide and curious.
Glenn looked at the young girl while he considered his answer.
"There were so many... Daryl and me just had to push our way through... back to back." He glanced sideways at the hunter and the others followed his gaze... all but Carol.
Daryl shifted uncomfortably against the wall, not wanting the attention
"We stayed close. With our backs together, they couldn't creep up on us. We kept our weapons out and just cut a path to Rick..."
Carl lifted his head at the mention of his father.
"When we finally got close... he was fighting off another group... but they had him pinned down..."
Carl's face was stoic as he listened.
"He didn't have any bullets left... had to use his pistol like a club... cracking it against their heads.."
"I think that's enough for now." Carol's voice was soft but firm
as she glanced quickly at Carl and then back at Glenn.
"Hey," said Maggie as she reached out, turning Glenn's face towards her.
He sighed at her touch, bringing his hand up to cover hers as it rested against his cheek.
"It's okay... we shouldn't have asked you to relive all that so soon... You should try to get some rest before dinner." She kissed his forehead and rose, leading him away from the table.
Shane strode to where Carl sat and placed his large hands on the back of the boy's chair. "Carl man, why don't you see if you can help your dad out with those supplies? I'm sure he and Herschel would be glad to have you."
Carl looked up at him and nodded.
"I'll check on Lori," said Beth. She laid a delicate hand on Carl's shoulder before flitting from the dining room. The boy watched her go, letting his gaze linger on her fleeting form for just a second longer than it should have. Shane scratched his head and smiled to himself as he watched Carl continue to stare at the doorway that Beth had just disappeared through. "Hey man," he jerked Carl's chair back playfully, startling him, "Go on. You ain't a whole lotta help to anybody sittin' here." Shane whacked him lightly on the head with his baseball cap. Carl's face reddened and he hurried from the dining room without a word.
"Don't give him a hard time Shane," Carol sighed as she turned in her chair. "It's sweet."
Shane rolled his eyes, laughing. "Does Herschel think so?"
"It's harmless," she said dismissively.
Shane arched an eyebrow as he looked down at her; she looked back, her body twisted in her chair. He slowly shook his head and Carol's face relaxed into a soft smile.
"Last thing that boy needs is some girl gettin' under his skin," said Shane.
"Ain't nothin'," added T-Dog from across the room. "Just some puppy love. Who's it gonna hurt if he follows her around? She ain't payin' him no mind; kid's too young for her." T-Dog chuckled.
Carol's brow furrowed as she listened to the men and their theories regarding Carl and Beth. She placed her hands on the table, fingers splaying as she stood up. Carefully, deliberately, she pushed in her empty chair and turned to face Shane, her arms folded across her chest.
"Don't tease him."
Shane and T-Dog lifted their heads at her words.
"After all," she said, her eyes going to both men in turn, "Age is just a number."
T-Dog's head tilted, his gaze darting from her face to Shane's.
"Guess that's true," Shane agreed, smiling.
"It is." Carol said with finality as she strode from the room, leaving them to their discussion.
Andrea sat at the table, lips parted. She blinked several times and allowed a small laugh of incredulity to escape as the frankness of Carol's statement washed over her. She couldn't help but cast a fleeting glance at Daryl who was still leaning against the far wall, silent. She shook her head, bringing one hand to her temple.
Just go before you say something.
Andrea followed her own advice. "Think I'm gonna head back to the RV... keep watch until dinner." She hurried past the men, trying desperately to contain the laugh that was about to spill from her.
Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek and replayed the scene in his mind...
The hell did it mean? Why were they gripin' about age? They're just a couple of kids... And Carol? When did she start talkin' like that?
His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Shane let out a long, slow whistle. He scratched the back of his head and looked at Daryl, "Women man; what are you gonna do?"
Daryl merely shrugged before pushing himself from the wall and heading for the kitchen. Something about Shane and Carol's exchange gnawed at him as he pushed the screen door open and slumped down on the top step.
Why'd she smile at him?
He snorted and ran a hand through his hair.
Why's it matter?
"It don't," he mumbled to himself, his elbows resting on his knees.
He stared out at the farm, past the camp, and watched the world get darker. The last rays of afternoon light flared red and purple before fading below the tree line. Daryl sighed, a dull pain forming behind his eyes.
"Feelin' alright?"
Daryl turned to see Herschel standing in the door way. "Fine," he muttered.
The farmer eased the screen door shut behind him and took a seat beside Daryl. "What about your hand?"
The hunter was silent. Herschel studied him for a moment, "Carol said it might need lookin' at."
Daryl stiffened, making sure to keep his eyes on the horizon.
Woman needs to quit worryin'. Ain't her problem.
"May I see it?" Herschel asked.
Without looking at him, Daryl reluctantly extended the injured hand. Herschel took it carefully in his own and felt the binding. "Looks like she did a good job..." he paused, eyes narrowing as he noticed the stains in the center of Daryl's palm. "But it does need to be changed."
Daryl grunted as he withdrew his hand.
"I can take care of it now if you come back in and bear with me a minute."
"Gonna take long?"
Herschel shook his head.
With that, the two men stood and reentered the house. They crossed the living room and made their way down the long hall, stopping outside the guest room. "I'm tellin' ya it Ain't nothin," Daryl raised his injured hand and let it drop.
"Not now," said Herschel as he held the door open, "But if you don't tend to it it'll get infected."
Daryl rolled his eyes and walked past Herschel.
"Have a seat," the farmer gestured at the bed in the center of the room.
Daryl obliged, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress.
"I really wish we didn't have to spend so much time in here," said Herschel with a heavy sigh. His back was turned as he fumbled in the bedside table and searched for clean gauze. "How's your scar?"
Daryl's hand slid under his shirt and he searched for the tender spot above his left hip. His fingertips traced the small, circular scars left by the arrow, feeling the raised skin. "Seems fine."
"I'm glad to hear that." Herschel turned to face him with fresh gauze and a small cloth in his hand. "I'm just going to run this under some water; I'll be right back." He left, heading for the bathroom across the hall.
Daryl nodded. He stared at the doorway and found himself wishing that someone other than Herschel would walk through it.
Quit.
He shook his head and tried to ignore the building pressure behind his eyes.
"Alright," said Herschel as he returned with a damp cloth. "See if you can get the bandage off." The farmer was hesitant to initiate any more contact with the younger man than was necessary.
Carefully, Daryl began to tug at the frayed edges of the binding. He managed to loosen one end and slowly unwound the soiled fabric. With each loop of gauze that Daryl pulled from his hand, he was reminded of Carol... Of how calm she was, of how completely focused she'd been while removing the splinter from his swollen palm. He struggled to recall whether anyone had ever been that way with him...
Fuckin' quit.
He grit his teeth as he peeled the last bit of fabric away from the sticky wound in the center of his hand; the bandage clung to the still drying blood and Daryl finally had to yank it free, hissing to stifle a curse.
The flesh of his palm was pale where the gauze had covered it... wrinkled, damp... He opened and closed his fist as Herschel pulled a chair up to the bedside. "Let me see."
Daryl grudgingly extended his hand and Herschel held it. "Be still and don't fidget," the farmer warned as he began wiping the dried blood away. Daryl refused to look at him. His fingers curled reflexively each time the rag touched his skin. Herschel noted the tension and tried to clean the wound as quickly as possible.
"I'm going to need to apply some pressure, to make sure it's not infected."
Daryl glared at him, his anger rising more from the pain in his head than Herschel's words.
"Just hold still." Herschel's thumbs went to either side of the wound and he pressed, softly at first. Both men watched as a tiny, bead of bright, red blood formed in the center of the cut. Herschel pressed harder, his eyes going to Daryl's face, gauging the reaction. More blood seeped through, the beads flattening as they filled the creases in his palm. "No pus; that's a good sign. Blood looks clean." Herschel dabbed away the blood and reached for the gauze.
As the older man wound the bandage around his hand, Daryl closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to get out of that room... out of the house... He and Herschel both lifted their heads at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Carol and Beth stood in the hall, with Lori supported between them. Her face was pale and covered in a fine sheen of sweat; she took labored breaths as the women stood just beyond the doorway. "She alright?" Herschel asked, his brows knitting together.
"She got sick," said Carol, her eyes meeting Herschel's. "She's tired; we're gonna walk her to her tent... let her lie down for a bit." She didn't allow herself to look at Daryl.
Herschel nodded, "I'll be along to check on her in a while."
Carol tightened her grip around Lori's waist, "Let's go Beth." The women continued to walk slowly down the hall and the sound of their footsteps died away as they reached the living room carpet. Herschel resumed his work on Daryl's hand.
Never mind how I'm doin'...
Daryl bristled, angry at her for ignoring him... angry at himself for caring. His blunt nails dug into the bedspread, balling it in a tight fist.
You ain't her problem, jackass.
"That'll do," said Herschel as he tucked the loose end of the binding snuggly into the rest of the cloth.
Daryl pulled his hand away and rubbed it in his frustration.
Herschel studied him for a moment, "Things alright between you two?"
"What?" Daryl's eyes narrowed as he met Herschel's gaze.
"You and Carol? Things alright?" He repeated as he tossed the soiled bandage into a small waste basket.
"Fine," Daryl snapped, his voice dangerously low. "Why?"
"Just seemed like..."
"Like what?" Daryl's blue eyes burned into Herschel, daring him to say the wrong thing.
Herschel weighed his words as he stood, dragging the chair away from the bed. "Like there was some anger there."
"Ain't nothin' there." Daryl hissed as he stood, stepping to Herschel so their faces were inches apart.
The farmer took a slow step back, but kept his eyes on Daryl. The two stood in the center of the room, studying each other... Neither spoke. Daryl felt his skin growing hot as anger simmered just below the surface...
Ain't none of his damn business.
Feeling the room shrink around him, Daryl finally broke the stare and stalked from the room. Herschel watched him go, a look of concern forming on his face. He stood with one hand on his hip and bowed his head in silent prayer.
Lord, grant me the strength to deal with these people...
The air was cool on Daryl's face as he pushed past the screen door and stepped into the early evening. He decided not to linger on the steps, knowing that if he did, one of the others would surely appear, wanting to talk.
Christ. Talkin'... Seems like every time I turn around there's someone wantin' to talk...
He made his way across the field towards his tent. As he stormed through the center of camp, a sudden movement caught his eye. Beth and Carol emerged from the Grimes' tent, zipping the flap behind them. Daryl watched them, slowing his pace.
"I think she'll be fine once she gets some sleep," Carol said as she wiped her brow.
"I hope so," sighed Beth. She rubbed her arms, chilled by the cooler air sweeping over the farm.
"Go on inside; it's getting cold."
The girl stared at her, uncertain.
"It's alright; just let Herschel know that she's resting for now."
Beth nodded and started walking back towards the house.
"Thank you for your help," Carol called after her
The girl looked over her shoulder, giving Carol a sad smile.
Daryl continued to watch as Carol lifted her arms and clasped her hands together, stretching. She closed her eyes, rolling her neck slowly from side to side before letting her arms fall to her sides. When her eyes eased open, she sucked in a sharp breath. Daryl was staring at her from across the camp. She quickly dropped her gaze and walked to a nearby log, where she sat with her back to him.
Daryl had resumed his trek to the tent, his cheeks burning, but something made him stop. He frowned, his hands going to his hips as he pushed up dirt with the toe of his boot.
Farm is too damn small. Can't get away from her... from any of 'em... Dammitt.
Gritting his teeth, Daryl turned and headed back to the campfire. He walked to one of the larger logs and took a seat.
Carol stiffened at his presence and looked away, trying desperately to focus on something... anything. She stared hard at the glassy surface of the lake, still, perfect. Her hands were clasped together tightly in her lap and she began to turn her wedding band, around and around, feeling the cold metal move over her finger. An anxious sigh escaped her as she felt herself growing warm, despite the chill. She shifted uncomfortably, his eyes burning into her, causing the fine hairs at the back of her neck to stand up.
God; what does he want?
Carol's resolve crumbled as fatigue and frustration overcame her; she tore her eyes away from the lake. "What?" She snapped, facing him.
Daryl was taken aback by the anger in her voice and came to the painful realization that he had no idea what to say.
"What do you want?" She demanded, her head tilting to one side as she studied him. "Are you here to check up on me? Like everyone else?"
Daryl was silent.
Carol shook her head and hugged herself. "I can't get five minutes alone without someone thinking I need a babysitter?" Her brows knit together as she glared at him, color rising to her cheeks.
Daryl scratched the back of his neck, and stared into the dark pile of ashes between them. "Ya just..."
"Just what?" Carol snapped. She was leaning forward, her nails digging into the tops of her knees.
"Ya just seem a little off," said Daryl, his voice low as his eyes moved to her face.
Carol rolled her eyes, an angry laugh escaping her lips. She rose from the log and stood with her hands on her hips. "Off?" She laughed again as she began to pace.
Oh my god... they really do think I'm crazy... All of them...
She stopped pacing and looked at him, trying to puzzle out his being there. "How should I be acting Daryl?" Her blue eyes narrowed.
Her tone was starting to bother him; his hand throbbed as he gripped the log. "Ya could talk... for starters," he growled.
Carol placed a sweaty palm on her forehead and laughed, her eyes manic. "Now you're telling me to talk more? My god..." She looked around the camp before refocusing on him. "What do you want me to talk about?" She asked, her voice rising. "About this?" She gestured outwards with her hands, at the camp... at their world.
Daryl continued to watch her, the pain behind his eyes growing worse.
"About how we can't sleep through the night without wondering if we'll wake up surrounded by those things? About how we can't beat this?" Her eyes were flashing heat as she locked her hands behind her head. "Maybe we can avoid it for a while, pretend that things are normal, that we can have a life here... but in the end... it's going to kill us. On a run... here... it doesn't matter... death will find us." She hissed. "You... me... Rick...everyone..." An angry tear slid down her face. "There's always going to be a reason for you to go out there," she shook her head, fighting more tears. "Food... medicine... something...and eventually..."
"What?" He snarled, standing and moving towards her. She stood her ground, glaring at him.
"Ya bitchin' because somethin' might happen? I know it will... I know how this ends." His arms spread outwards. "But I'm tryin' to hold it off as long as I can." He spoke through clenched teeth as his eyes locked on hers. "We ain't out there takin' joyrides." He took another step forward. "We ain't tryin' to leave ya'll here worryin'..."
"I never said I..."
"Yeah ya did." His eyes were blue slits.
He ran a hand over his face in exasperation, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper, "We're out there," he pointed behind them, beyond the dark tree line, "tryin' to make things better... before it all goes to hell."
Carol swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was, seething, towering over her in the dark. The aggravation was hot on her tongue as she bit out her next words, "I know you all are doing what needs to be done I just.."
"What?" He snapped, his hands on his hips.
She dropped her gaze to the ground for a moment and listened to his breathing as he stood in front of her. She closed her eyes and pulled her short hair before forcing herself to look at him again. "I hate watching you leave," she hissed, her eyes locking on his.
Daryl stared at her and fumbled for more words as he struggled to process what she'd said.
Watchin' me leave?
He bit his lip before responding. "That why ya ain't said shit to me since I got back?"
The words stung as he flung them at her. She looked at the night sky, realizing that there was no good answer. Daryl stood waiting for her.
I can't do this...
She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and turned to leave. Before she'd taken three steps there was a crushing pressure on her arm as Daryl's fingers closed around her wrist. Her eyes grew wide as he jerked hard, pulling her back to face him. She stared in disbelief, lips parted as he maintained his grip on her wrist, the pressure hurting her as she tensed at the contact.
"We ain't done here," he hissed. Her skin was hot under his fingers and he could feel the energy humming where he held her. They stared at each other through the dark and Carol's heart strained against her ribs... whether from fear or something else... she wasn't sure. He watched as a bead of sweat slid down her temple and disappeared beneath her jaw line.
Fuck. The hell are you doin'?
His grip on her loosened for an instant. Carol blinked, breaking the connection. "Yes," she grunted, jerking free and rubbing her aching wrist. "We are." Without another words she turned away and headed for the RV. Daryl stood alone beside the ashes of the fire, blood still pounding in his ears. His breathing gradually slowed as he watched Carol slip into the RV.
Christ...